I huff and try to step around him. His hands settle on my waist again and he guides me out of the way. “What are you doing?”
“Wanted a quiet moment with you.”
I look up at him and frown. “Why?”
“I haven’t seen you in months and the first time I do, we’re surrounded by people.”
“That was by design.”
He continues to glare, clearly not impressed with my response. I roll my eyes and lean against the wall, arms crossed over my chest. I didn’t know he was going to be here tonight, but when Vera said the men were coming, I should have known something was up. Now that he’s here, I need to draw boundaries. Or at least try. The thing about me and Patrick I don’t like admitting, even to myself, is I have no control. As a teenager, all it took was a smile. As an adult, apparently it still works.
His left hand rests on the wall beside my head and I notice the dragon tattoo wrapped around his forearm. The other stays on my hip and I pointedly ignore looking at his face.
“Lotus.”
My nostrils flare at the nickname. “You have to stop, Patrick.”
“I can’t.”
I know why he can’t. It’s the same reason I call him Trick. It’s the one thing we both have of our past, our history.
“I need you to try,” I tell him softly.
We’ve got a baby connecting us, but that doesn’t mean we’re going to be together. Not when I’m still smarting at how easily he broke my heart. What annoys me even further is he doesn’t realise how much he hurt me back then.
“I don’t want us to fight.” The words are said simply, but I hear the pain in his voice. “I want to make this easy for both of us. Not for the baby, but for us.”
“I didn’t know we were fighting.”
“Then what do you call the snapping and snarling?”
I roll my eyes. “Not fighting.”
“Can we not not fight then?”
The earnestness in his voice is disarming and I let my protective shield slip. “But I like fighting with you.”
“Thought we weren’t fighting?”
“Just using your words.”
He chuckles. “Gets you all hot and bothered, doesn’t it?”
“Hardly,” I mutter.
“I don’t want us to be the kind of parents who fight in front of our kid, Tamara. I don’t know what the future holds, but can we at least try to find a balance?”
I’m not used to him calling me by my name, or sounding so serious. It catches me off guard. He’s right, fighting isn’t going to help us in the long run. I’m having our baby and he wants to be here for us. It would be so easy to ignore him, keep fighting and pushing him away. But this is Patrick, he’ll keep coming back for more. A glutton for punishment.
I sigh heavily and shrug. “We should talk first and it might lead to some fighting.”
“That’s probably unavoidable, but we can work through it.”
“Why is this so important to you?”
“Because I don’t know why you hate me.”
I don’t hide my wince, because it’s pointless. I used to hate him, but now I’m confused about my feelings.